CHAPTER 3. DEAF.
On the following morning, she perceived on awaking, that
she had been asleep. This singular thing astonished her.
She had been so long unaccustomed to sleep! A joyous ray
of the rising sun entered through her window and touched
her face. At the same time with the sun, she beheld at that
window an object which frightened her, the unfortunate face
of Quasimodo. She involuntarily closed her eyes again, but
in vain; she fancied that she still saw through the rosy lids
that gnome's mask, one-eyed and gap-toothed. Then, while
she still kept her eyes closed, she heard a rough voice saying,
"Be not afraid. I am your friend. I came to watch you
sleep. It does not hurt you if I come to see you sleep, does
it? What difference does it make to you if I am here when
your eyes are closed! Now I am going. Stay, I have placed
myself behind the wall. You can open your eyes again."
There was something more plaintive than these words, and
that was the accent in which they were uttered. The gypsy,
much touched, opened her eyes. He was, in fact, no longer
at the window. She approached the opening, and beheld the
poor hunchback crouching in an angle of the wall, in a sad
and resigned attitude. She made an effort to surmount the
repugnance with which he inspired her. "Come," she said
to him gently. From the movement of the gypsy's lips,
Quasimodo thought that she was driving him away; then he
rose and retired limping, slowly, with drooping head, without
even daring to raise to the young girl his gaze full of despair.
"Do come," she cried, but he continued to retreat. Then
she darted from her cell, ran to him, and grasped his arm.
On feeling her touch him, Quasimodo trembled in every limb.
He raised his suppliant eye, and seeing that she was leading
him back to her quarters, his whole face beamed with joy and
tenderness. She tried to make him enter the cell; but he
persisted in remaining on the threshold. "No, no," said he;
"the owl enters not the nest of the lark."